


america the beautiful

by quietgal



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fireworks, Fourth of July, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 07:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11413002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietgal/pseuds/quietgal
Summary: His penthouse sure was beautiful. It was the top floor of a huge skyscraper. The side of it was completely glass, allowing for huge windows and a breathtaking view of the city skyline on any regular day. Today, it would’ve made for the best spot in the city to watch the fireworks from. While everyone else was melting and crowded outside, his friends could’ve sat comfortably in his spacious, air-conditioned, refrigerator-filled-with-alcohol-having apartment and watched the colors light up the sky.But they wouldn’t be doing that.





	america the beautiful

America stood in front of three men, smile frozen on his face.

“Huh? You want us to leave  _now_?” Prussia asked, brows furrowed and beer in hand. “We’re just getting started!”

“Yes, I heard that the fireworks start at 9:30!” Spain pouted. “You are going to kick us out of your beautiful apartment with a perfect view just 10 minutes before? So cruel, America.”

America laughed nervously. “Well, like I said, you guys can all go up to the roof–”

“But you’re not coming?” Prussia rose an eyebrow.

“R-Right.”

France hummed, stepping closer to him. “Why not, Meri?” He pressed his free hand up against America’s cheek, and it took all America had not to pull away. “It’s your birthday, we all want to be with you. Come up with all of us–”

“Actually, he can’t,” a familiar voice said firmly. America could’ve cried with relief. “He has a standing appointment with  _me_. I’m sure you all understand.” England wrenched France’s hand away from America’s face, then stepped in front of America.

No one moved.

“Go on, then. Up to the roof, the lot of you.”

And the trio began to shuffle out, along with everyone else who had stayed to listen in.

God, it was good to have England around.

Said Brit turned back to him, sighing and putting his hands on his hips. “Honestly, America, for the world’s biggest superpower, you aren’t very assertive when it comes to things like this.”

America just laughed again, voice weak.

England pressed his lips together, then sighed. “Come, love.” He walked over to the couch and sat down on it, then plucked the TV remote from between its cushions and began to fiddle with it. America turned to follow him, but stopped at the sight in front of him.

As Spain had said, his New York City penthouse sure was beautiful. It was the top floor of a huge skyscraper. The side of it was completely glass, allowing for huge windows and a breathtaking view of the city skyline on any regular day. Today, it would’ve made for the best spot in the city to watch the fireworks from. While everyone else was melting and crowded outside, his friends could’ve sat comfortably in his spacious, air-conditioned, refrigerator-filled-with-alcohol-having apartment and watched the colors light up the sky.

But they wouldn’t be doing that. They’d be crowded together on his roof, cornered by everyone else who lived in the building.

America shook his head, trying not to think that way. He knew things wouldn’t have gone over well if they’d stayed downstairs.

“Al.” The voice of his lover brought him back to reality. “Come. You want to watch, don’t you?” England was looking at him, hesitant. It made America hesitant, too. “… Perhaps you want to skip it this year?” England asked, a hint of hope in his voice. “We can invite everyone back down. There’s still time–”

“No,” America finally managed to speak. “No, no.” He walked over to the couch and sat down next to England.

England was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “Alright.” He turned the channel to the correct station. A pop star that America recognized immediately but knew England would never recognize was swaying her hips on stage, singing some song that every conservative elder in the country was surely berating in the comfort of their own home.

America sat stiffly. He only relaxed when he felt England cuddle into his side. He wrapped his arm around him, allowing himself to sit back against the couch. “… If you want to go upstairs, you can, Arthur,” America murmured, almost against his own will.

England shook his head. “I want to stay with you, darling.”

America bit his lip. “… Okay,” he whispered.

Year after year, it didn’t get any less embarrassing.

America loved his birthday. Always had. And God knew that he’d spent years trying to get England to simply show up at his annual celebration. Ever since he and England had become official, England had gotten better and better each year. Back in 1995, England got through his first July 4th without a single bout of sickness. It was a great day that they’d spent years, decades,  _centuries_  waiting for.

In 1996, confident from his previous success, England planned on staying with America for the whole July 4th weekend.

Thus, the night of America’s 220th birthday, England discovered America’s secret.

Without fail, the Macy’s July 4th Fireworks Celebration made America cry like a baby. Every year.

Well, to be fair, they had only started in 1976, and the television quality wasn’t great back then. They hadn’t shown much other than the fireworks themselves, and it was nothing like the spectacle it was nowadays. Even that had made a few tears run down America’s cheeks, though.

Now, with the production scale, the television event turned America into an absolute mess.

The spectacular fireworks, the beautiful music, the shots of the audience – his people – watching in amazement and adoration…

The faces of his people, who had gathered together to honor  _him_ , despite all the shortcomings they faced because of his government, his history, his decisions…

The people who lived below the poverty line. The people who faced systematic oppression. The people who were discriminated against every day for simply being themselves in the country that they were born in, or the country that their family came to call home, or the country that they sacrificed everything for just a chance to live in.  

They all came together on his birthday. Families reunited from all over the country to celebrate the holiday, fully conscious of the day’s meaning or not.

The people who had put their lives on the line for the sake of America, the people who worked to make America a better place, the people who were educating themselves to give America a bright future…

America had to honor  _all_  of his people.

Watching a popular television program was no adequate way to do it, but…

For someone who was kept so far away from his people, someone who was hidden in the shadows, who was given another name so that none of them might suspect who he was, who could never be alongside them as himself…

It was something.

So, like many households in America were doing at this time, he sat on his couch and watched the fireworks.

The people onscreen began to count down. The fireworks began a little before they reached “one,” and both America and England jumped in shock.

They looked at each other and managed a laugh.

“We’re alright,” England murmured, placing a hand over his racing heart.

America chuckled. “Yeah. Safe at home.” He pulled England close.

The sound of the fireworks was louder in person than it could ever be from the TV. The booming was echoing throughout the whole city.

America noticed England looking out the window, watching the fireworks light up the air, the light reflect off the silver skyscrapers. He was flinching slightly at each bang.

“Just fireworks, baby,” America whispered into his ear, pulling him ever closer. “Just fireworks.”

“I know,” England said quickly, placing a hand on America’s thigh. But he wouldn’t take his eyes away from the window.

America guessed England had never seen this particular fireworks celebration so closely before. America’s birthday party was notoriously held in Virginia at his beach house, where they lit up their own fireworks. As fun as they were, they definitely weren’t as overwhelming as the New York City display. Besides, America always had to do them at 7 PM so that everyone would leave before the broadcast; the fireworks then weren’t nearly as stark as they were now against the night sky. This year, however, America had business to do in New York all week, and it would’ve been a shame to cancel the party for the sake of work. So here they were.

America turned his head back to the TV, biting his lip. The camera was panning across the skyline, showing the full splendor of the firework display. It was starting to show the faces of the audience, but a sigh from England interrupted America’s attention.

England had turned his head to America. He was smiling wryly at him.

“Alright, then. We’re alright.”

“We’re alright,” America affirmed, smiling weakly at him.

England laughed. “Well, I am.” He patted America’s chest as he cuddled once more into his side. “Let’s get the waterworks over with so I can have another beer, yes?”

America laughed, too.

It wasn’t long before said waterworks started.

England was already rubbing his back as America hunched over, sniffling and wiping furiously at his face, moved by the currently playing rendition of “America the Beautiful.”

Did his people really think that highly of him?

England tutted. He leaned in over to kiss America’s shoulder. “Oh, love,” he cooed. “Talk to me.”

“I just–” America began, though he was cut off by his own chest jumping with held back sobs. “I just don’t know if– if I’m doing enough for them–”

“You’re doing all you can,” England reassured. “You always do.”

America shook his head. “No, I– I could do more…”

“Alfred,” England frowned, suddenly stern. “You always do your best for your people. I  _know_  you do. You’re a democracy, you can’t make everything go your way, but you always try.”

America just kept crying.

England sighed. He nuzzled America’s shoulder. “This was a hard year for you, wasn’t it?” He whispered. “But you’re still here. Things will get better. I promise.”

Still, no response.

“I’ll be by your side all the way through,” England murmured. “You’re going to be all right.”

Finally, America nodded. He took England’s hand and held it tight.

The rest of the program went by quickly. America still couldn’t completely pull himself together, but he was doing better. England was still by his side, rubbing and nuzzling and kissing him.

America let out a heavy sigh as the program ended and England powered off the TV.

“Oh,” England cooed, turning his attention back to America and seeing his puffy eyes. “All of that tuckered you out, didn’t it?”

America just sniffled. England laughed.

“Don’t have so much pity for yourself, lad. You’ve so much work to do if you really do want to make things better for those people out there.” England stood, then offered America his hand. “Come on. Right to bed with you. You’ve got work in the morning.”

America briefly considered arguing. He could go up to the roof, have another drink, party a little harder.

But England was right… as usual. He had work in the morning, so he took England’s hand and followed him to their bedroom.

He allowed England to tuck him in and pet his hair until he fell asleep, despite it being only 10 o’clock.

After all, he had work to do in the morning.

Lots and lots of work.

**Author's Note:**

> pls coment and chek out me tumblr @ quietgalwrites.tumblr.com


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